


Ransom

by starletes



Series: Blood of the rich [1]
Category: DCU (Comics), Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Blood Drinking, Jeremiah loses it, Love, M/M, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, S4 kind of Jeremiah, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-12
Packaged: 2019-10-27 01:10:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17756951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starletes/pseuds/starletes
Summary: “Don’t fight it, Bruce. Can’t you feel the connection between us?”Bruce agrees for dinner with Jeremiah to negotiate Alfred's and Selina's release, but ends up agreeing to Jeremiah's terms.





	Ransom

Not until now did Bruce notice Jeremiah’s piercing gaze, such intensity and almost honest interest in the stake Bruce was chewing while he touched none of the well cooked luxurious meals. Instead his hand rested on a crystal wine glass, what it contained though Bruce didn’t dare to ask. 

“Your modesty is almost charming, Bruce. Needles, however. This is all for your pleasure, don’t be so hesitant.” Jeremiah breaks the dreary silence with his tender voice. 

The knife screeches against the glass plate when Bruce puts down his cutlery down for a moment, attempting to make eye contact with the pale eyes on the other side of the table. 

In the light of candles Jeremiah’s skin looked porcelain, so fragile that if someone touched it, it would crumble into pieces. Unreal, divine. Eyes reflected nothing but Bruce’s straight face that hid, or so he though, his agitation, trembling hands safely placed on his knees under the table now away from Jeremiah’s sight. 

He sensed Bruce’s uneasiness and put his glass aside.

“I suppose you came here to negotiate about your butler’s and ah…” He rolled his eyes in annoyance, as if the last word got stuck in his throat something of a choking sound left the ruby red parted lips. “Selina’s release. Is that correct?” 

Bruce clears his throat and dries the corner of his mouth with his napkin before speaking. “Exactly. I see no reason as to why keep them hostages instead of simply taking me.” 

As confident as Bruce’s words came out, they were still followed by Jeremiah’s eerie laugh that shook Bruce’s bones, sank into his brain and cleared his mind out of anything else that was in there. 

“Because, my boy, that would simply defeat the purpose. I don’t want to keep you here against your will.”

“There is no difference.” Bruce argues.

“Alright, maybe you are right.” Jeremiah admits, replying in such speed that he almost interrupted Bruce’s sentence before it was finished. 

His eyes widened, once again a new wave of sweat cools his body.

 

_Don’t forget who you are talking to._

_You don’t know what he is capable of._

_Oh you do! Don’t you remember the bodies?_

 

“How cruel of you to pin every murder in the city on me. You’ll be relieved to know that none of that was my work.” Jeremiah interferes, lifting his glass for a taste. His tongue flicks out and he licks the edges clean when there is some, of what Bruce was sure is blood now, left. The texture was almost slimy, thick and richer than any wine. 

“No? Who’s then?” Bruce tries his luck, hoping not to ruin Jeremiah’s seemingly good mood tonight. 

“I have no honest idea. Do you lack criminals in the city?” He smirks joyfully. His mouth formed into a smile, such which looked like a fake, painted one. But it was more than real. The perfect white teeth showed, so did the sharp deadly canines that Jeremiah would usually intend to keep hidden, but there was no point in pretending with Bruce. The boy must have heard the rumours and as critical and incredulous he was he couldn’t throw them out of his head. This is Gotham after all, perhaps he shouldn’t be that surprised. 

Jeremiah rose from his seat, graciously, intimately as if attempting to seduce Bruce walked closer. Slowly, carefully, almost hesitantly. Bruce said nothing, didn’t move or shift in his seat as he so badly wanted to. His instincts demanded, no they _commanded_ him to run, the door was right behind, maybe there were no guards or Jeremiah was a sweetheart that wouldn’t chase him. Only in an alternative universe. 

Something pulled Bruce to Jeremiah, softly but persistently pushed his back forwards so he’d stand up and rush right into his arms, a grip that only dear God knows if he’d escape alive. Bruce fought against it, put up all mental and physical strength to stop his legs from giving in and defeating his efforts.

“Jeremiah, what are you-” 

“There is something that concerns you more than the freedom of your friends. Open up to me, Bruce, you know you can. Talk to me.” He purrs, now either in Bruce’s head or so close to his ear that it caused a seizure, his body tensed as if in agony. He felt oxygen being sucked from his lungs, leaving them dry and sore. The room felt tighter, he swore he could feel the back Jeremiah’s hand brush over his cheek, his pointy knuckles somewhat bringing him back to the present moment. 

“Don’t fight it, Bruce. Can’t you feel the connection between us?” Bruce sucks in a breath, air finally flowing to his lungs so lightly again. There was no hand on his face, the squeezing sensation around his body disappeared as if it was never there. 

It dawned to Bruce. 

It was all a mind manipulation. A trick. Jeremiah was at the back of the table as he were, running his tongue over the sharp edge of his glass, nearly moaning in pleasure as the last drops of his _drink_ dripped on his tongue. Not only did he not pay attention to the dreadful, frightened look on Bruce’s face, he remained disturbingly calm when Bruce harshly pushed back with his chair, jumping from his seat.

“Stop this right now, Jeremiah!” He raged, “You can’t mind rape me and hold innocent people against their will like this. It’s madness.”

Jeremiah showed no signs of affection, he silently watched Bruce’s cheeks turn a lovely shade of pink, listened to a strong heart beat wildly in the young man’s chest, lulling him. He could fall asleep on Bruce’s chest while whispering soothing words to the boy, in this exact setting, the light of candles and moon from outside the window, hoarse sound of crows cooing in the night. 

“Such anger. Bruce, I can see your friends are very important to you. I understand. I think we can come to an agreement that would benefit both of us.” Bruce blinked twice and a few more times to make sure that this time Jeremiah really stood up, moved his fingers and breathed in fresh air to make sure there is no invisible holding a grip on him. 

Bruce wasn’t clueless, he knew what Jeremiah was about to suggest.

“I’m not letting you drink from me.” Very confidently, voice straight he stated. But he didn’t step back when Jeremiah was barely inches away from him, his long fingers reaching for his, breath tickling his nose. 

“Why not? It can be quite a pleasurable experience if you only give consent, let me have you willingly. Like I said, the benefit won’t be one-sided.”

Is blood the price for his only family’s freedom? The only ransom Jeremiah wants? 

“How do I know you won’t kill me?” He doesn’t hide his suspicions, bravely taking a step towards the man, filling the gap.

Jeremiah’s face lights up with joy, a wicked smile forcing its way on his pale face as he took the gesture as an agreement. “Because you know I don’t want to.” He speaks his words directly to Bruce’s ear, like a lover whispering forbidden things. 

The knuckles from Bruce’s mind brushed against the crook of his neck, Jeremiah ran his thumb over the collarbone, up to the boy’s Adam’s apple where the slightest bit of pressure that he applied almost accidentally sent Bruce’s head back, an automatic reaction to a predator’s like Jeremiah approach. 

Helpless under Jeremiah’s touch Bruce bit back a moan when he felt teeth dragging along his skin, he felt his own pulse pick up pace when he fell into the pale man’s arms, letting him massage his tensed back with one hand while playing with his curls with the other. Perhaps it was the anticipation that made Bruce tremble, or perhaps the pain once Jeremiah’s canines punctured his skin in a swift motion, so simply and masterly. Embarrassing sounds spilled from Bruce’s mouth, a mix of a moan and a whimper before he bit his tongue to prevent any other reactions that would only satisfy the beast on top of him.

Jeremiah thrived in pleasure. The flow of Bruce’s blood directly to his mouth, smearing his jaw and chin with its heat. He felt Bruce’s heartbeat as if it was his own, _boom boom_ in such a hypnotising rhythm. It almost makes him worried, will he be able to fulfil his promise? He doesn’t want to let go of his life, he wants to keep it to himself, _own_ it, feel it wither slowly as he feeds on it. 

“ _Miah_ …” Bruce moans, tightening his grip around Jeremiah’s neck, “ _Stop_ …” he pleads, weakly and faintly, unsure if Jeremiah would hear. 

But his words don’t reach their destination, Jeremiah’s monstrous groans keep on going as well as the pulling from Bruce’s warm vein.

Only when it’s too late does Bruce’s brain send him news “ _you are dying…_ ”

Any fight that Bruce attempted to put on was pointless and only accelerated his falling into the dark tunnel. The sensation of Jeremiah’s bloody lips parting Bruce’s was the last thing he felt.

 

_Jeremiah, you lost it._

_Legs weak,_

_Heart slow,_

_Skin pale._

 

_Just like you, Jeremiah._

**Author's Note:**

> It's up to you to decide what happens to poor Brucie after this unfortunate accident. Hope you enjoyed and sorry for any mistakes you might have found, I'll correct the work as soon as I can!
> 
> I appreciate your comments more than anything. Thank you!


End file.
